Comfortably Numb
by Belladonna Sinistra
Summary: A songfic about Zack whilst in Hojo's clutches (poor Zack!) and about how he felt whilst in that tube of green stuff, etc. Yick. >.


A Zack story! Yay! ^_^ Anyway, it's about what happened when Hojo got hold of him, and when he died, and it's set to Pink Floyd's _Comfortably Numb_, which in my humble opinion, is one of the best songs ever written. :p So anyways, it's not a happy story, rather dark and scary. ( I hate needles, in case you didn't guess. * shudder * ) I do not own anything except the text of this story, Zack belongs to SquareSoft, and _Comfortably Numb_ belongs to Pink Floyd (but not Roger Waters, 'cos he sucks :mad: )

_~Comfortably Numb~_

_by Belladonna Sinistra_

Hello  
Is there anybody in there?  
Just nod if you can hear me.  
Is there anyone home?  
Come on, now.  
I hear you're feeling down.  
Well I can ease your pain,  
Get you on your feet again.  
Relax.  
I need some information first.  
Just the basic facts,  
Can you show me where it hurts?

The basement is dark and cold. It always is, since no  natural light ever finds its way down here. Outside, it's two o'clock in a bright, sunny afternoon, but for all anyone down here knows, the world outside may as well have ceased to exist. Two men, one only a boy of sixteen, hang suspended in tubes of thick, greenish liquid. Their eyes are closed, their bodies limp, their hair drifting in the liquid. Another man appears suddenly from the shadows, wearing a white lab coat and a pair of pince nez. He taps his long fingertips on one of the glass tubes, the one containing the older, dark-haired man. The man in the tube raises his head slightly, and opens one eye at the scientist's words:

'Hello in there. Can you hear me, my dear? Come on now. Can you show me where it hurts, little one?' The scientist cackles, and his victim closes his eyes and lowers his head back onto his chest.

  
_There is no pain, you are receding.  
A distant ship's smoke on the horizon.  
You are only coming through in waves.  
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying  
When I was a child I had a fever.  
My hands felt just like two balloons.  
Now I've got that feeling once again.  
I can't explain, you would not understand.  
This is not how I am.  
I have become comfortably numb._

The man hears the tapping of the scientist's fingers on the glass, and slowly opens his eyes. He can't hear the scientist's words, but he sees his lips moving. The liquid in which he is suspended ebbs and flows, making the dimly lit room outside ripple and flicker in his blurred vision. Through the movement of the scientist's lips, one word jumps out at him- _hurt_. The man in the tube is momentarily confused. Hurt? There is no pain here. There are no sensations, no feelings- nothing. The room and the scientist begin to recede, and the man lowers his head back onto his chest, closing his eyes. His body feels…strange, somehow detached. A memory flickers dimly in his mind- a memory of being a child, having a fever. The memory fades as quickly as it arrived, but his dulled senses briefly register the similarity between then and now. Then that thought vanishes too, and he sinks inexorably back into comfortable numbness…

Ok.  
Just a little pinprick.  
There'll be no more ...Aaaaaahhhhh!  
But you may feel a little sick.  
Can you stand up?  
I do believe it's working- good!  
That'll keep you going for the show.  
Come on, it's time to go.

Another dark, lonely day in the basement. The dark-haired man is out of the tube now, strapped down on a wooden table. Ominous stains suffuse the surface of the table, stains which look horribly like blood. Once out of the tube, the subjects begin to regain their senses. The man registers these stains, then the emaciated scientist advancing on him with a syringe in his hand. The long needle gleams cruelly, and the man struggles weakly against his bonds. The scientist gives his trademark cackle.

'No, no, little one. It's only a little pinprick, after all…'

He grips the man's arm, and plunges the needle into the vein. The man's mouth stretches wide in a silent scream of rage and pain. His head spins, and he retches, coughing pathetically as the chemicals slowly overwhelm his body.

'Look at that! It's working!' The scientist slowly draws out the needle, a sadistic smile on his thin face. The man gives another silent cry, and the scientist beckons to his thuggish cronies, who undo the thick leather straps, roughly hoisting their prisoner to his feet. He stumbles, too dizzy to support himself, and the thugs half-drag, half-carry him back to his tube, thrusting him roughly back inside and slamming the hatch closed. The room outside spins faster and faster, swirling round and round until the man closes his eyes, falling swiftly into unconsciousness…

There is no pain, you are receding.  
A distant ship's smoke on the horizon.  
You are only coming through in waves.  
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying  
When I was a child, I caught a fleeting glimpse,  
Out of the corner of my eye.  
I turned to look but it was gone.  
I cannot put my finger on it now.  
The child is grown, the dream is gone.  
I have become comfortably numb.

'Look Cloud! We did it! We've reached Midgar!', the dark-haired man shouts breathlessly to the blond companion he is half-carrying towards the city. 'Not much further now!'

Suddenly, a dozen armed soldiers leap out from the bushes ahead. 'There they are!'

The man springs at them, bringing his heavy sword up in front of him. He fights bravely, but alas, there are too many for even this brave warrior to overcome. The soldiers overpower him, knocking him to the ground. The blond boy buries his face in the ground when the shooting starts, unable to watch his best friend's murder. He is angry now- angry with SOLDIER and Shinra Corp. for betraying them, and angry with himself for not being able to sav his friend. He takes the sword from the dying man, holding it high above his head in a silent vow to carry on his friend's dream of becoming a mercenary. 

But Zack is not quite dead yet. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Cloud take his sword. He tries to move, to take the other man's hand, but his bod doesn't want to obey. His last thought, before he drifts away into the black comfort of terminal numbness, is:

'_Don't stop dreaming, Cloud. I love you…'_

He dies with that thought in his mind, and the image of his friend holding the sword in his mind.

_I have become comfortably numb…_


End file.
